


No Better Version of Me I Could Pretend to Be Tonight

by JackEPeace



Category: Barely Lethal (2015)
Genre: F/F, They are gay, also fluffy, which duh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 14:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13320186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: But, despite the fact that every previous social outing had been disastrous in some way, Megan ignores what she’s been taught and lets Liz talk her into attending another high school party. Two failed missions would be more than enough to give even the most seasoned agent pause, but Megan is certain that Prescott and Hardman had never taken Liz Larson into account when teaching their lessons and trying to imbue their agents with the skills they would need in the field.





	No Better Version of Me I Could Pretend to Be Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Geeky_MikaBoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geeky_MikaBoo/gifts).



> I remember watching this movie two years ago and trying to figure out why Liz and Megan weren't gay and why they ended up with douchebag guys. 
> 
> And then Mika reminded me of this movie and my love for it and I watched it again and was like damn! Why aren't they gay and why did they end up with douchebag guys?? 
> 
> So I mean I guess it's our duty to fix all that and write the fics we all know in our hearts we deserve? I'm pretty much in love with this pairing and want to keep writing for them so...come join me? 
> 
> Title from the song "Jackie and Wilson" that I first pulled out because I couldn't find anything else but now I have decided this is a perfect song for these two!

One of the things she had learned at the Prescott School was to analyze risks based on previous experiences, whether the experience had been your personal ones or had come from dossiers and field reports. It was important to know what to expect, to not only weigh the best course of action but to analyze the risks and see whether they were even worth taking. Some missions were set to fail before they had even begun, regardless of how skilled the agent.

But, despite the fact that every previous social outing had been disastrous in some way, Megan ignores what she’s been taught and lets Liz talk her into attending another high school party. Two failed missions would be more than enough to give even the most seasoned agent pause, but Megan is certain that Prescott and Hardman had never taken Liz Larson into account when teaching their lessons and trying to imbue their agents with the skills they would need in the field.

Liz is…impossible to resist. Almost in the same way that the truth serum Hardman had given her had been impossible to resist: it had lowered her defenses and thrown her mentally off balance just enough to make her _think_ that it was real, that it was working. It had disoriented her and made her head spin and keeping her thoughts to herself had really seemed unimportant when it had felt like the world had tilted on its axis and was trying to dump her off the side.

Not that Megan thinks that Liz would enjoy being compared to a truth serum.

Not that she even thinks about mentioning any of this to Liz at all the morning in the kitchen when Liz brings up the party in a casual sort of way, like she isn’t even entirely sold on the idea but is willing to give it a shot. In a way that suggests that she knows Megan will already agree to go with her.

Which, of course, Megan does.

Some habits are hard to break and while she dresses for the party later that night, she runs through the previous data in her mind, trying to analyze the risks and why the previous missions had been met with failure.

Of course, Agent 84 had had a lot to do with the furious destruction on both counts, and Megan is sure that the girl won’t be hanging around this time.

At least, she’s _pretty_ sure.

A knock on the door sends thoughts of battle strategies and escape plans from her mind and Megan closes her closet door just as Liz throws the bedroom door open, apparently tired of waiting for an invitation. Not that she would have needed one, Megan thinks.

“Ready?” Liz asks before flopping down on the end of Megan’s bed, something that has become seemingly second nature to her in the past few weeks. Since it became official that Megan would be staying in the Larson household and was no longer an sanctioned, active member of the Prescott School, Liz had been much more inclined to spend her time in Megan’s presence. Doing homework, driving to school, wasting time on the weekends in pajamas, waiting cartoons with Parker…Megan had assumed it was because Liz knew that she was no longer temporary and could allow herself to grow more attached -something that happened several times in the teen comedies that Megan loved so much.

Though she couldn’t help but hope that Liz’s constant presence was the result of something else, something that Megan felt growing inside her own chest.

Something that made her grin like an idiot every time Liz came skipping into the kitchen each morning for breakfast before school.

Something that made her giggle when Liz made a face at her in class behind the teacher’s back, crossing her eyes and poking out the tip of her tongue.

Something that made her cheeks get hot whenever Liz leaned against her on the couch during their lazy Saturday mornings or in the evenings whenever they did homework together or studied for upcoming exams.

Something that makes her heart stutter in her chest at the sight of Liz sitting on the edge of her bed in a pair of jeans and a glittering top, hair in an intentionally messy ponytail.

“Yeah,” Megan answers quickly, turning back to look at herself in the closet mirror in order to avoid looking at Liz. Of course the door is shut, leaving her staring at the closet door like an absolute idiot. “Yeah, I’m good.” She grins, looking back at Liz, giving her a thumbs-up. “Are you sure about this?”

“People don’t usually ask ‘are you sure about this’ while giving a thumbs-up,” Liz says with an eyeroll. “It sends mixed signals. Plus, you look like a dork.”

Megan feels color rush to her cheeks. “Oh, yeah, duh.” She shakes her head, scoffing at herself.

Liz hops off the bed, covering Megan’s hand with her own to push her thumb back down. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s Friday night, it’s a party. Aren’t we both supposed to be doing the normal high school girl thing?”

Megan looks down at Liz’s hand, still covering her own. “Yeah, right,” she says, nodding. “The normal high school thing.”

Liz seems to realize the placement of her hand just as Megan is getting used to the weight of Liz’s hand on hers and jerks back disappointingly quick. “Okay, so,” she says, clapping her hands together. “Let’s go.”

Parker is downstairs, playing some game that requires him to stand in front of the television and swing around the controls in an exaggerated manner. Megan can see Mrs. Larson sitting on the couch, a paperback open in her hands, though judging by the way that she’s tensely watching Parker’s every move -no doubt waiting for something destructive to happen- its unlikely that she’s actually getting any reading done.

Mrs. Larson puts the book down when she sees Liz. “So, do we remember the rules?”

Liz rolls her eyes. “No drinking, no drinking and driving, no fun, no more penises on my face, no more-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Mrs. Larson interrupts as Parker giggles at his sister’s use of the word penis. “I’m your mom, it’s my job to worry about you.”

Megan offers Mrs. Larson what she hopes is a reassuring smile. “I’ll take care of her, Mrs. Larson.”

Liz grins at her and Megan looks down at her feet. “See, Mom, I’ve got Megan. I’m pretty sure she’s capable of handling a few idiots at a high school party.”

Mrs. Larson makes a noncommittal noise and the smile on her face doesn’t reach her eyes. The years of training that she’s had to help her analyze facial expressions and body language might not help her much in high school but it’s good enough for Megan to read Mrs. Larson: she doesn’t entirely trust her or Liz’s assurances. Though Megan figures it probably has less to do with the invasion of the trained assassins a few weeks before and more to do with the fact that Megan abandoned Liz to a bunch of drunk boys and a Sharpie at their last high school party.

Before Megan can send the message to her mind, the thumbs-up is back and she’s flashing Mrs. Larson what she hopes to be a reassuring smile. “I can handle it, Mrs. Larson.”

Liz rolls her eyes, reaching behind her to grab Megan’s hand, tugging her forward. “Okay, we’ll be back later. Bye.” Liz’s fingers slip between Megan’s and she can only hope that she’s not holding onto too tightly, that her palms aren’t sweaty, that she’s not going to do anything to make Liz want to pull away.

And Liz doesn’t, until they get to the driveway and slide into opposite sides of the car. As Megan goes through the proper safety procedures that she’d promised fifty times to follow to be allowed behind the wheel of the Larson’s new car, she’s aware of the smell of Liz’s lotion filling the small space of the car and the feeling of Liz’s eyes on her.

When Megan glances in her direction, Liz smiles at her. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“Yeah, of course,” Megan nods quickly. “Anytime.”

Liz fidgets with the radio while Megan drives, switching from station to station any time there’s a lull in the music. “I don’t know, like, any of these songs,” Megan admits, tapping her fingers in time with some poppy country song.

“We’ll add that to your normal high school girl education,” Liz tells her. “Along with some teen movies that aren’t _Mean Girls_ and _The Breakfast Club_.”

“Those are classics!” Megan protests, feigning insult. “You can’t get better than that!”

Liz rolls her eyes. “Uh, as someone who has seen _Heathers_ and _Pretty in Pink_ , I beg to differ.”

A part of Megan is tempted to suggest that they forget going to the party and just watch movies in Liz’s room on her laptop, a bowl of popcorn between them, a shared blanket draped over their shoulders. But they’re only a block away from the party and it seems too late to turn back, even for a far better alternative.

The street is already clogged with cars, which Megan figures is going to be a red flag to any annoyed neighbor who decides to call the cops on the under-aged partiers, but she decides to cut her classmates some slack. They haven’t had the experience that she has when it comes to covering her tracks and sneaking around undetected.

Though, the cars aren’t the most obvious sign that there’s a party to bust up: the music thumping from the half open windows and the empty, red Solo cups dotting the front yard are a pretty good tip off. Megan follows Liz up the driveway and through the open front door and into the crush of people that she now, officially, goes to high school with.

This is definitely one thing that she thinks the movies got right: the crowding of people into a small space. The house they’re in now isn’t as big as Gooch’s and isn’t nearly as nice -or, at least, it’s not now that a pack of high schoolers has descended upon it.

There are people everywhere and at least three different songs blasting from three different devices. A group in the living room is playing a drinking game that seems to involve nothing more than a ping-pong ball and slapping your opponent’s cup of beer across the room and into the crowd of spectators. The kitchen is equally as crowded, and Megan can feel eyes on her everywhere she goes. As if she hadn’t been notorious enough after the whole incident with the school mascot, her throw-down at the dance with 84 had done a pretty good job of cementing her as the high school crazy in the eyes of her classmates.

Though, Megan has to admit, some of her fellow students look at her with a touch of admiration, which does a little to balance out the sneers and judgmental, arched eyebrows.

It doesn’t take Megan long to lose track of Liz completely. This is, of course, embarrassing for two reasons, the first being that Hardman would be utterly disgusted in her and all her training. The second being that she’s lost track of Liz in a party that she doesn’t really want to be at in the first place.

Megan declines the offers for a drink, as well as the offers to join in a beer pong game and the drum circle forming outside. Instead, she moves through the crowd, returning smiles whenever people call her name or beckon her over, looking for Liz.

Downstairs in the basement, things are a little bit quieter, though equally as crowded. Most people are hovering around the giant flat screen, watching video game characters duke it out. Megan spots Roger, smiling tentatively at him when he meets her gaze.

“Hey,” Roger says once he’s close enough to be heard over the noise around them. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

Megan shrugs. “Well, you know, trying to get the high school experience,” she says, sliding her hands into the pockets of her jeans to avoid another thumbs-up. “I came with Liz.”

Roger nods, smiling faintly. “Ah, well that explains it.”

Megan doesn’t need to ask him to clarify. When he’d called it quits with her two weeks ago, he’d told her it was because he felt like her heart belonged to someone else. Not Cash, a thought which makes Megan want to roll her eyes in disgust at her past self. But someone more deserving of her attention, though neither of them had been able to say her name that day.

Or since.

“Have you seen her?” Megan asks hopefully. “I lost track of her and I promised her mom we’d stick together and-”

Roger pats her on the shoulder. “Megan, I’m sure she’s fine,” he says. “It’s a party, not the running of the bulls.”

“Bulls, high school students…kinda the same when you think about it,” Megan points out.

Roger smirks, considering. “I…I can’t really argue with that, I guess.” He shrugs. “She’s fine. Come play the next round, let’s see if you’re as good at kicking ass in video games as you are in real life.”

“Oh, you’re on,” Megan assures him, following Roger back toward the couch. “I’ve been practicing.”

“The ass-kicking or the video games?” Roger asks.

Megan scoffs. “Video games, of course,” she says. “I don’t need any more practice kicking ass.”

Her money isn’t quite where her mouth is because kicking ass virtually is much more difficult than just picking up a stapler and going to town on a guy. Megan manages to get the hang of it after a few rounds, thanks to Roger and some of the other players attempting to give her pointers and she manages to keep from being a complete disgrace. Parker might even be proud of her, eventually.

After a few rounds, Megan and Roger slip off the couch and head back upstairs into the noise and the heat of the party. Megan can’t ignore the twinge of guilt that flutters below her ribs, reminding her of Liz and the fact that she hasn’t actually seen her since they got to this stupid party.

Though, all it takes to find her, apparently is to walk into the kitchen where a couple of guys are attempting to float a keg of cheap beer. Liz is sitting on the kitchen counter, overturned liquor bottles and mysteriously sticky stains on either side of her thighs, a plastic cup in her hand. Megan can recognize the look on her face: the flushed cheeks, the heavy lids, the way her head keeps tipping forward despite her best efforts. Liz Larson has done what apparently all normal high school kids do at a high school party, according to Megan’s research: she’s gotten drunk. Again.

There’s a guy Megan doesn’t recognize, someone from the basketball team, standing close enough to Liz that he’d wedged himself between her legs, keeping her perched on the edge of the kitchen counter. Liz is nodding to whatever he’s saying but her focus is on the contents of the cup in her hand, her brow slightly furrowed, shoulders hunched forward.

When Liz notices Megan standing with Roger in the entryway to the kitchen, relief floods across her face and Megan feels her body tense slightly, her muscles suddenly prickling for a fight. “Megan!”

Despite the several inches the guy has on her, Megan is able to muscle him out of the way relatively smoothly, smiling at him with feigned cluelessness when he narrows his eyes at her. “Hey, Liz.” She puts her hands on the other girl’s shoulders. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Liz giggles, her posture significantly more relaxed than it had been seconds before. “You have?” She blinks up at Megan through her heavy-lidded eyes. “I’ve been right here.”

Megan isn’t entirely sure about the truth of that statement, but it hardly matters. “Are you okay?” She can’t help but let her eyes flick toward the basketball player, still lingering like he’s looking for his chance to swoop back in. “I thought you told your mom you weren’t going to drink.”

Liz roll her eyes, the sunny brightness slipping off her face and being replaced by a scowl. “Relax, Megan,” she slurs, jabbing a finger in Megan’s face. “ _You_ aren’t my mom.”

She manages to hop off the counter without losing her balance, bumping into Megan on her way out of the kitchen. Megan frowns, trying to think about what Cady or Cher or Claire would do in this situation. “Liz, wait,” she says as she goes to follow her, “I told your mom I would keep an eye on you.”

A few of the people milling about laugh at this and Megan can see the color rush immediately to Liz’s cheeks. “I don’t need you to take care of me, Megan,” Liz hisses, waving her away. “Just leave me a-”

Liz doesn’t get the chance to finish because the front door opens and someone yells something about the police and the party dissolves into chaos faster than an embassy after a shot has been fired at a dignitary. The basketball player jostles Liz in his effort to rush out the backdoor and Megan grabs for her, keeping her from being knocked over.

“Oh shit,” Liz grumbles, her head falling forward onto Megan’s shoulder, “my mom is going to murder me.”

Despite the voices that Megan can hear from the living room demanding IDs and names and for the partygoers to sit still and wait for their turn to be questioned, Megan grabs Liz’s hands and tugs her forward, moving for the basement level of the house. It’s a bit like swimming against the tide because several of the people that Megan had just been sitting and playing video games with are attempting to run back up the stairs and no doubt toward an exit not blocked by police, but Megan throws an elbow or two and manages to drag both of them down the stairs.

“Here,” Megan says, moving Liz toward the bathroom in the back corner of the basement. “We can hide in here until they leave.”

Liz blinks at her blearily but she doesn’t protest as Megan pulls her into the bathroom. “Does that really work?”

Megan shrugs, easing the door quietly behind them and locking it. “It does in the movies.”

When she turns back, Liz has climbed into the bathroom, leaning against the tiled wall behind her. “What is it with you and bathtubs?” Megan smirks, shaking her head.

Liz opens one eye, beckoning Megan toward her. “It’s cozy,” she assures her. “You should try it some time.”

Megan swallows, thinking about refusing for the briefest of seconds. But she’s never turned down a chance to be close to Liz, never allowed her hammering heart or her quickening pulse to get in the way of their friendship. It won’t do them much good to start now.

And so Megan climbs into the bathroom, wedging herself down beside Liz, their knees and shoulders pressing together. “Sorry about earlier,” she says quietly without looking at Liz. “I’m sorry if I was being too…” She waves her hand, attempting to pluck the word from the air around them. “Like your mom.”

Liz smiles at her, sleepy and crooked, her head tilted to the side. “No, I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m glad you were there. That guy was creeping me out.”

That guilty feeling is back, pressing into her ribs, reminding her that she hadn’t done what she’d promised, hadn’t kept an eye on Liz. “I’m sorry,” Megan says quietly. “I should have been there.”

“Yeah,” Liz says, bobbing her head. Megan’s shoulders slump slightly but Liz only smiles at her. “I mean I wanted to hang out with _you_ at this party.”

Megan chews on the inside of her mouth to keep from smiling, shaking her head. “Well, I guess we’re kinda hanging out now.”

Liz sighs, leaning her head against Megan’s shoulder. “You can cross this off your normal high school girl experiences list,” she says decidedly. “Hiding from the cops.”

“We just don’t have a good track record with parties,” Megan remarks.

Liz pats her knee. “I’m having fun,” she assures Megan. “Bathtubs are the best.”

Megan grins, unable to keep her smile hidden. It would be impossible to do anything but smile with Liz cuddled up beside her, a heavy and warm weight against her side. “Yeah,” she says, “this is fun.”

What she means is _this is fun, with_ you. But she doesn’t really know how to say the words out loud.

Isn’t sure that any amount of training she’s had has prepared her to say them to Liz.

Liz lifts her hand, letting her fingers tip-toe across the top of Megan’s hand before settling her hand over hers once more. “Can I ask you something?”

Megan swallows, her throat suddenly tight. “Yeah,” she says, which is better than the _anything_ that was on the tip of her tongue.

“Why aren’t you with Roger anymore?”

That wasn’t the question that Megan had been expecting.

She feels oddly disappointed.

Megan exhales, pursing her lips. She finally she says, “How come you aren’t with Gooch?”

Liz rolls her eyes. “Because Gooch is an idiot,” she says flatly. “Because every second I spent with him just made me realize I would rather be spending them with someone else.”

It’s strange, all the times she’s been in situations where she easily could have died, moments that should have made her heart beat impossibly fast, made it difficult to breathe. But that’s nothing compared to the way that she feels now, after listening to Liz’s words. Megan is certain she can actually _feel_ her heart stutter and stop for a moment, her blood quickening in her veins, all of it because of Liz’s words and the feeling of her breath, soft and warm, against the side of her face.

Liz presses in closer and Megan feels like her tongue is glued to the roof of her mouth, which is incredibly useless considering now seems like an important time to talk. “Can I ask you something else, Megan?” Liz says, and this time Megan can only nod.

Previously, their touches have always been accidental, par for the course of the time they spent together. But Liz’s body against her own feels purposeful, destined, and Megan can’t catch her breath, can’t find a single coherent thought in her mind.

“Can I-”

Someone knocks on the door and both girls jump in unison, Liz letting out a yelp of surprise. Instantly, the lidded sleepiness disappears from her eyes, fear widening her eyes instead.

“Megan! It’s me!”

The voice on the other side of the door doesn’t belong to one of the police officers presumably looking for teenagers to haul off to jail for the night. Megan exhales, letting her head thump back against the shower wall. “Roger.”

Liz grits her teeth, moving away from Megan, wrapping her arms around her knees. It might be easier now to breathe, but Megan immediately misses the feeling of Liz there against her.

And, more than anything, she wants to know what Liz was going to ask her.

She thinks that she knows.

Her answer would have been _yes_.

“Open up,” Roger says from the opposite side of the door and Megan can’t think of any reason not to do as he’s asked so she pushes herself out of the bathtub and goes to unlock the door. “I thought I saw you come in here.” He looks past Megan’s shoulder, toward Liz in the bathtub. “Why are you always-”

“What do you want, Roger?” Liz interrupts with a huff, picking at the sequins on her shirt.

Roger looks back toward Megan. “Oh. The cops are gone. All clear upstairs. Thought you might like to know so you guys could head home.”

“Thanks Roger,” Megan says with a nod, turning back to Liz, helping her into a standing position. “Some party, huh?”

Megan slips her arm around Liz’s waist, helping her regain her footing. Liz looks at Roger and scoffs. “Yeah,” she mutters under her breath, “thanks Roger.”

Roger looks at her, confused. Megan only forces a smile, shrugging, as though she doesn’t share in Liz’s sentiment.

With Roger’s help, Megan manages to get Liz back up the stairs and out onto the street. She’s glad she’d had the foresight to park a little ways down the block, given the tickets that she sees pinned down on various windshields by the wiper blades. At least that’s one thing she isn’t going to have to tell Mrs. Larson about.

Liz slumps into the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window. For the next several blocks, she doesn’t say anything at all, doesn’t even offer a comment about the music on the radio.

But finally she says, “Roger still likes you.”

Megan looks over at her, barely managing to resist the urge to brush Liz’s hair away from her face. In the light of the passing streetlamps, Liz looks beautiful, a modern day Sleepy Beauty with her heavy eyes and her beer-flushed cheeks.

“I don’t like Roger, you know,” Megan says, because it seems easier to say the words out loud in the quiet darkness of the car.

Liz blinks at her, the corners of her lips twitching in what Megan figures is a smile. “Yeah?”

Megan shrugs. “He broke up with me because he thought I liked someone else,” she says. “He was right.”

Liz reaches for her hand, taking it off the steering wheel, threading their fingers together. “Megan, I don’t want to be drunk for this,” she says, holding onto her hand tightly. “Promise me that you’ll tell me all of this again in the morning.”

Megan swallows around the dry tightness of her throat, the sudden stab of disappointment that lances through her chest. Drunk, of course. She’d known that all along…which had probably been why it was so easy for her to even admit to Liz in the first place that Roger wasn’t the person her heart belonged to.

It might even have been the reason that Liz had tried to…

Megan shakes her head, pushing the thought out of her mind. The only thing she needs to focus on is getting Liz back home and into bed…everything else will just have to wait until tomorrow.

And if Liz doesn’t remember any of it in the morning then she’ll just have to deal with that too.

Megan pulls the car into the Larson’s drive, clicking the engine off and looking over at Liz, slumped against the door. “Okay,” she sighs, nodding. “Let’s do this.”

Liz manages to carry most of her own weight, though she stumbles over her own feet several times, nearly bringing both of them crashing onto the front porch. Liz giggles, pressing her face against Megan’s shoulder in an effort to stifle the sound. “Whoops,” she says, none-too-quietly, “who put that plant there?”

“That wasn’t a plant, Liz,” Megan whispers, helping the girl up the stairs. “That was nothing.”

Which, unfortunately, gets Liz giggling all over again. She’s still laughing when the front door swings open and Mrs. Larson sighs, studying the two of them. Megan winces, trying to find something to look at that isn’t Mrs. Larson or Liz, leaning heavily against her. Finally, Mrs. Larson just shakes her head. “Well, we managed to avoid any dicks on the face this time, I see.”

Liz grins, giving her mother a thumbs-up.

Megan is grateful for Mrs. Larson’s help in getting Liz upstairs and into her pajamas -something she lets Mrs. Larson handle while she hurries downstairs to get water and aspirin for Liz to take. She brings it to Liz, putting the pills in her hand and then giving her the glass of water. “This should help.”

Liz nods, swallowing the pills and giving the glass back to Megan. “Thank you for getting me home,” she says. “I knew you would take care of me.”

Megan shrugs, hoping that Liz doesn’t notice how red her cheeks are, hoping that no one else can hear the pounding in her chest.

When Megan turns to go, Liz reaches for her, pulling her back. “You didn’t promise me.”

It takes Megan a second to realize what she’s talking about. _Promise me that you’ll tell me all of this again in the morning._ Megan isn’t sure that she can do that, not unless Liz brings it up first.

Not unless she knows that Liz wasn’t just drunk and under the impression that everything was a good idea.

But still, Megan nods. “Yeah,” she says quietly, “I promise.”

It takes her a while to fall asleep after that, her mind a swirl of thoughts about Liz and the party and whether she’s terrified or elated for the morning to come.

When it finally does, Megan feels like her head is thick with fog, her eyes too dry, her skin too tight. She’s tempted to pull the covers back over her head and try and get a few more hours of sleep but the sun streaming through the windows and the overly loud banging coming from the kitchen lets her know that getting any more sleep is probably not going to be an option.

And so, Megan gets out of bed, taking a shower in an effort to wake herself up, and then forces herself to walk down the hallway toward Liz’s room.

She tries not to equate the walk to that of a prisoner on death row but…it’s a little difficult for her mind to avoid the comparison.

Liz’s door is already slightly ajar but Megan knocks softly anyway, poking her head into the room. The Liz-shaped lump on the bed groans, pulling the comforter tighter over her body. “Ugh, _what_!”

“Sorry,” Megan says quickly, “I can-”

Liz sits up right suddenly, something that she seems to immediately regret judging from the way that she winces and presses the heel of her hand to the side of her face. “Shit,” she mutters, her cheeks pale. “No, Megan, don’t go. I thought you were my mom, _again_.” She opens her eyes for the sole purpose of rolling them. “She’s been in here ten times already, acting like she’s never been hungover a day in her life.”

Megan smirks, stepping into the bedroom. “You’re feeling pretty terrible, huh?”

Liz shrugs. “Could be worse, I guess,” she says. “I could be in jail right now. Because I’m pretty sure my mom would _not_ be bailing me out.”

“Oh, I could get you out,” Megan assures her quickly. “Trust me. I know at least five different ways to break someone out of prison. And, I mean, these aren’t exactly high security buildings so it probably wouldn’t even be that hard and…sorry…” She trails off at the look on Liz’s face. “I’m glad no prison breaks are necessary.”

Liz nods. “Yeah, me neither,” she says. “But good to know we have a plan b.”

“Definitely,” Megan assures her. “Can I get you anything? Water…or…?”

“Megan,” Liz interrupts, her brow furrowing. “You’re acting weird. You’ve never acted weird around me.”

Busted. For a professionally trained spy, she’s apparently terrible at keeping her feelings hidden from a fellow teenager.

Megan offers her a weak smile, swallowing, toying with her fingers. “I…no I’m not,” she says quickly. “Why would I be weird around you? That’s ridiculous-”

“Because I tried to kiss you last night,” Liz says quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’m sorry. I…I shouldn’t have done that, and I can’t believe I let myself think that was a good idea and now things are weird and…I knew they would be weird…”

Megan looks at her, trying to read her features, to analyze her body language, to pick up on some clue. But all she can see is Liz, looking pale and sick and somehow on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry,” Liz says again, reaching out a hand to Megan, an entreaty. “I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

“Why did you try to kiss me?” Megan asks, surprised that her tone sounds detached, almost disinterested.

Maybe it’ll be easy, after all. If Liz tells her that she was just drunk and it never really mattered, maybe it’ll be easy for Megan to just shake her head, shrug, assure Liz there are no hard feelings and just go back like everything is perfectly normal and nothing ever happened at all.

But there’s a part of her that can’t help but repeat Liz’s words over and over: _I don’t want to lose you as a friend_.

How often has she thought the same thing over the past several weeks?

Liz swallows and a tear drops onto her cheek and Megan feels her heart tighten in her chest like there’s a fist wrapped around it, squeezing as hard as it possibly can. She wants to put her arms around Liz, wants to wipe the tear away, wants to assure her that everything is fine between them, that it always will be.

But Liz speaks before Megan can even open her mouth. “Because I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time,” she says quietly. “But I’ve been afraid.”

“Of me?” Megan is surprised that she can speak at all, that her voice isn’t stuck in her throat.

“Well, you are a trained assassin,” Liz smirks, wiping at her cheeks. “I was afraid you might not want me to kiss you.”

Megan laughs, shaking her head. “Seriously, Liz, that’s all I’ve wanted pretty much since I got here.”

Liz grins at her, wiggling her fingers impatiently on the hand that she’s still holding out in Megan’s direction. Megan takes her hand, her heart jumping wildly in her chest, her body tingling with the anticipation of finally being able to lean forward and-

The bedroom door slams the rest of the way open and Parker hurries into the room, hopping onto the bed. Megan jerks back so quickly that she trips herself, knocking into Liz’s dresser and knocking over the pictures and knickknacks that she keeps there.

Liz groans, covering her face with her hands. “Jesus Christ! Seriously!” She looks at her brother. “What do you want, Parker?”

“Mom says you guys need to come downstairs now and start on your list of chores because you’re in trouble,” Parker says, grinning at them. “Why are you in trouble?”

Liz kicks him off the end of the bed. “For killing my _last_ little brother,” she hisses. “Tell Mom we’re coming.”

Parker hurries out of the room, yelling out Liz’s message as he goes thundering down the stairs.

Megan shakes her head, laughing at the situation. It seems like the only possible thing _to_ do. “Well, I guess we need to go and-”

But Liz is already out of bed, grabbing Megan’s shoulders and pulling her close enough to kiss. Which she does without hesitation and Megan swears that she sees fireworks.

Clearly another thing all those teen movies have gotten right.

When Liz pulls away, Megan can’t resist the urge to grin, holding up her fist John Bender style. Liz rolls her eyes, giving her a playful shove. “Are you seriously doing _The Breakfast Club_ thing right now?”

“I mean isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you finally get to kiss the girl?”

Liz shakes her head. “I hate you,” she says, even as she’s leaning in for another kiss.

Which Megan is happy to give her.  


End file.
